Crimson Butterflies
by brwneyes1324
Summary: Cho has a unique problem, one that only Jane can help with.
1. Chapter 1

Crimson Butterflies

**Chapter 1—There's no business like Cho's business**

The bright sun spilled into an oddly abandoned CBI office on a Monday morning. The wide area usually dominated by the Serious Crimes Division had a forlorn feeling, like the space itself missed its tenants. In fact, only two of its usual tenants remained here today. A man with golden, slightly careless hair sat on a well worn brown leather couch, doing a book of logic puzzles. At one of the desks, a solidly compact Asian man sat reading reports.

Jane finally looked up the third time Cho stifled a sigh and shifted in his chair. He could practically feel the indecision pouring off his friend, and had a fairly good idea about the cause. Normally, Jane would just have gotten up, wheedled the man into articulating his distress, then come up with a brilliant plan. But the cause of today's distress was a bit more delicate, and needed to be approached sideways. While tact was not something Jane was known for, he was a master of timing.

"You keep doing that, and it's getting kind of annoying," Jane said, startling the other man. When Cho looked over, the blond man looked engrossed in his book. But one thing Cho had learned working with Patrick Jane, appearances were deceiving.

"Sorry," Cho said. The moment stretched taut as Cho tried to pretend he was working. Finally, the stress built up too much, until even Cho had to break the silence. "It's just too quiet. It's creepy."

"I think it's kind of relaxing," Jane replied as he turned a page. "In any case, Rigsby will be back from his firearms proficiency exam this afternoon. Van Pelt's deposition will be over soon and Lisbon gets back in the morning from her conference. What are you worried about? That the ghosts of agents past will start haunting us?"

Cho just thinned his lips and turned back to his work. It lasted about 20 minutes before the sighs and shifting started up again. Jane let it stretch out again, still reading his book. This had to start with Cho, or he would resent the interference. This awkward silence was merely means to an end, a way of applying pressure without Cho realizing it. Cho himself often used intimidating silence, but Jane added a mastery of letting internal pressures do all the work for him. Cho wanted to talk. He just didn't realize it yet.

Jane had first noticed his distraction a few days ago when he caught Cho looking at a travel brochure in the office of murdered secretary, instead of examining the crime scene. Jane had casually cleared his throat near Cho's ear to bring him back to task before Lisbon caught him. Later, as they drove back to the office, Jane saw Cho's glance linger a bit on an Asian woman herding a small horde of children. That afternoon, Cho had furtively minimized a computer window when Lisbon walked by. The agent who was the most focused, the solid rock they could depend on, was very much distracted.

The loud clank of a dish being placed a little too carelessly echoed from the kitchenette. Jane stayed focused on his book, but Cho flinched at the sudden sound. His attention broken, the normally stoic man began to show his agitation. His left foot began to tap, and then the pen he was holding began to be tapped against the desk. He got up to get coffee. He went to the men's room. Twice. He shuffled papers repeatedly. Drawers were opened then shut, with nothing removed. When he began to shoot the occasional furtive glance his seemingly oblivious companion, Jane decided he was almost ready.

Jane focused on his book, watching his friend only from the corner of his eye. He waited, so patiently, until that moment just as Cho was starting to calm down again.

"When is your mother's birthday?" was all he asked, still gazing into the pages in his hand.

Cho let out an explosive sigh. "Wednesday."

Cho turned to face Jane, finally letting his face show a frown. Jane let himself look Cho full in the face. He closed his book, crossed his legs and contemplated the shorter man.

"And someone is showing you up in the gift department," Jane surmised, watching Cho's face clear into relieved assent. "Sis….no, brother. Your oldest brother. What is he, software engineer?"

"Graphics designer," Cho admitted. "He makes more money in a month than I do in a year."

"Ah," Jane said as he stood up and sat on Cho's desk, listening.

"Stephen let it slip to Richard that he was sending our mother to Paris for her 65th birthday. First class, the whole thing," Cho explained.

"And the others took it as a challenge," Jane stated, seeing the problem.

"Yeah," Cho said miserably. "Elizabeth is going for a diamond hair piece. Richard commissioned an oil painting portrait, for crying out loud! I mean, how do I even compete with that? And the party is supposed to be this big event. Liz is going all out on it. Everyone my mother has ever met is probably going to be there!"

Jane placed his hand on Cho's shoulder, thinking for a moment. Cho's parents had to have been an odd pair. Cho obviously cherished his Chinese heritage, but his name-Kimball- indicated at least one of his parents had English ancestry. But whatever the parental love story, they had raised remarkable and successful children. Cho was obviously the least successful in terms of material wealth, but was on the career fast track in the CBI. One day, when Lisbon finally moved up the chain — probably to Minelli's office — Cho would likely become the Serious Crimes division team leader. It would not surprise Jane to see Cho as some sort of major player in law enforcement in fifteen, twenty years, perhaps even on the national level.

But that was tomorrow, and didn't help Cho today with his competitive siblings bankrupting themselves in a silly competition that obviously had nothing to do anymore with their mother's special day.

"Do you know what the secret to the perfect gift is?" Jane asked his crestfallen friend.

"What?" Cho asked hopefully. As odd as it seemed, talking to Jane made him feel better, and he had hope that maybe the erratically brilliant man could help him.

"Love and affection," Jane said with a smile.

"Wait, I thought that was the secret to seducing someone," Cho pointed out.

Jane just shrugged. "It's the secret to a lot of things, when you get right down to it. But for a gift, it must be symbolize your love and affection. Get a gift like that, doesn't matter if it's the Hope diamond or a macaroni and glue painting. Its perfect."

"Okay," Cho said slowly, desperate enough to go along with anything at this point. "So how do we find a present like that?"

Jane hopped off the desk and pulled on his suit jacket with a grin. "Come on, we are going shopping."

"What, we can't! Someone has to be here if a case comes in," Cho protested.

"Not a problem," Jane said as he all but pounced on the entering Van Pelt. "Reinforcements have arrived! Grace, I'm going to borrow Cho for a bit. Hold for fort?"

"Uh, all right," Grace said in amiable confusion, turning to watch them as they left. "When will you be back?"

"Depends," Jane said as he hustled the still reluctant Cho to the elevators. "Just call us if you need us!"


	2. Chapter 2

Crimson Butterflies

**Chapter 2- Perfection in Hiding**

Cho had expected Jane to take them to some upscale boutiques or high-end fashion stores. Instead, Jane took them to a little, out of the way street with lots of new age, hippy-like shops and merchants spread out on blankets on the sidewalk. It was very artsy, and remarkably free of tourists.

"What are we doing here?" Cho demanded.

"Shopping," Jane replied as if it was obvious. He looked at Cho's expression and explained. "Look, you can't compete with the glitter your brothers and sister are bringing. So you are going to win with sincerity and grace. Now, we just have to find it."

"Here?" Cho asked, eyeing the velvet painting of a dog dressed like Elvis displayed outside a shop door. It was so tacky he couldn't take his eyes away.

"Y-e-e-s," Jane said slowly for emphasis as he pulled the shorter man away, "right here. Cho, you have to pay attention. See this?"

Jane knelt by an old Mexican woman and picked up a silver bracelet to show him. It was etched with a graceful floral pattern, and inlaid with startling perfect turquoise stones. Glinting in the sunlight, it seemed to shimmer with an otherworldly beauty. As he put the bracelet back down, he gave a soft, inward smile with just hint of sadness today.

"I could afford to buy my wife anything," he said simply, "jewels, diamonds, whatever. But this street, this is where I found the perfect gifts."

Cho was speechless for a moment, taking it all in. He looked at the blond man, who had dared his own painful memories to help a friend over something as simple as a birthday gift.

"Okay, where do we start?" Cho asked.

"First, we need to figure out what your mother means to you," Jane replied as they started to stroll down the street. "The rest will sort itself out. Tell me a memory, your happiest memory. Doesn't matter how small or boring you think it is, just make it happy."

"When I was seven, my mother used to take me to the park near our home," Cho started after a pause. "We would walk for hours and she'd tell me stories. Some were made up silly ones, others right from the Brothers Grimm. My favorite, though, were the Chinese myths."

The bright sunlight followed them down the street. Jane would occasionally pause briefly to look at some merchandise or other, but still Cho never doubted the man was listening attentively. Cho found himself idly picking through what he saw as well, although he did have to wonder what anyone would do with a neon pink elephant candle when he saw one on display.

"One day, we were at the park and suddenly there were all these butterflies in the air," Cho continued. "I don't know where they came from, but they covered everything. My mother just looked up at the sky, closed her eyes and spread her arms out. I can still see her, slowing spinning with her arms out, covered in butterflies. She had said the Chinese thought of butterflies as the embodiment of joy, love and rebirth. That is what I saw on her face that day. Joy."

In that moment, Cho saw it. It was a stone butterfly, lovingly carved from translucent reddish quartz, a richer color than pink and glinting in the daylight. Whatever artist had made it had carved two Chinese characters, one on each wing, and edged them in melted silver. A braided silver chain attached at the tips of the wings. It was no trip to Europe or jewel encrusted hair clip, but it seemed to sum up everything Cho ever thought and loved about his mother. And he knew she would love it.

Jane peered over Cho's shoulder and smiled. "What do the characters say?"

Cho smiled widely. "Joy and Love."

Perfect.

Fin.


End file.
